


Season's Greetings

by Longpig



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Medical Procedures, Mortinez, Yuletide 2016, because she always gets her man, jenry, jo should be a mountie, vaguely threatening holiday cheer, yuletide for yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: Henry receives a holiday card from an old friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kariszma83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kariszma83/gifts).



It was nothing but a plain, cream-coloured, greeting card-sized envelope. The paper was of fine quality, to be sure - certainly nothing from a drugstore stationery aisle - but not ostentatious. Return address, absent; postmark, Poughkeepsie. Neither of these was what had turned Henry’s blood to ice (it had almost certainly been sent via a re-mailing service anyway). No, it was the sender’s writing; those bold, block capitals spelling out his name, and hers: 

 

DOCTOR & MRS. HENRY MORGAN

 

It had been more than five years since he’d seen it last, but he’d know that hand anywhere.

 

* * * * *

 

Henry was on his way out the door of Adam’s room in the long-term care unit when the attending had accosted him with the good news.

 

“Signs of recovery, you say?” It took a Herculean effort to keep his expression neutral. The physician, in contrast, was quite animated.

 

“He’s been showing a marked increase in response to stimuli since your last visit, and the most recent neurological tests look very promising!” The younger man flipped up a sheet on his clipboard, double-checking his patient’s chart. “We’re probably going to take him off the ventilator today or tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

 

“Well, that is wonderful news!” Henry smiled through gritted teeth, trying to swallow the panic he felt welling up in his throat.

 

“Now, I’ve got to caution you Dr. Morgan; it could still be a long road. But the prognosis is good.” He smiled, glancing over at Adam’s still form. “I’m sure he can’t wait to be able to talk to you, after all you’ve done for him.”

 

_ Not nearly long enough _ , Henry thought. “I look forward to it immensely,” he said instead.

 

As the doctor bustled off to finish his rounds, he could have sworn he saw Adam wink at him.

 

*

Some time later, he was pacing back and forth in Abe’s shop, wearing a path into one of the rugs. “Signs of recovery, Abe, that’s what he said!” Henry was no longer able to keep the edge of desperation from his voice. “What are we going to do?” Once, not so very long ago, the answer would have been obvious: disappear. Leave. Start over somewhere far away. But in the past few years he’d built himself a life here in New York, with friends and connections the likes of which he’d not had since Abigail. People he trusted, cared about, beyond Abe. 

 

Jo...

“Alright, alright,” his son was saying. “Let’s think about this. You always knew it wasn’t gonna be a long-term solution. And can you sit down? You’re makin’ me dizzy with all that.” He gestured exasperatedly towards a recently-acquired art deco chaise.

 

“Long-term? No.” Henry continued to pace, ignoring Abe’s admonition. “But I rather expected it to be longer than this!” The few months it had been since the confrontation in the subway had barely felt like enough time to catch his breath, nevermind devise his next steps. A sick realization dawned on him. “My god, Abe, he  _ winked _ at me! He could be even closer to recovery than they know! Oh, if only I had more time!” he moaned, running a hand absently through his hair.

 

“Now ain’t that ironic,” Abe remarked wryly, then held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture in response to Henry’s withering gaze. “Sorry. But look, we’ll figure this out. There’s gotta be some way to -” Just then, the shop bell jingled with an incongruously bright tone, signalling a new arrival. Detective Jo Martinez stepped inside, ignoring the ‘CLOSED’ sign in the window, and flicked the door’s lock closed behind her. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill outside. “Thank God.” Abe glanced exaggeratedly skyward. “Listen, will you help me calm him down before he gives himself an aneurysm?”

 

“I came as soon as I got your message,” she began, her dark brows furrowed with concern as she looked to Henry. “What’s up?”

 

“Jo!” A wave of relief washed over him at the sight of her, momentarily easing his distress. “It’s Adam. His doctor has informed me that he appears to be recovering from his locked-in state.” Her eyes widened slightly and she took a deep breath, processing.

 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “So I guess his ‘indefinite’ time-out just got a lot more defined.”

 

“You could say that! My god, it’s only a matter of time before he recovers enough function to palm a syringe, or a scalpel, and then this starts all over again! His, his insane, ridiculous  _ game! _ ” Henry found himself sputtering, his voice rising, caught between rage and dread. Then, a new horror seized him as he looked at her worried face. “He’ll come after you, Jo. I couldn’t, I can’t allow-”

 

“I can take care of myself, Henry,” she cut him off, but gently. “Now take a deep breath. We were always going to have to deal with this sometime. When your coma patient starts outliving his doctors, for instance.”

 

“I suppose kidnapping him and keeping him chained up in the basement is out of the question?” Abe piped up, not sounding particularly hopeful.

 

“Don’t give him any ideas.” Jo retorted, casting him a reproachful glance. 

 

“I guess it might make it a tad awkward to bring lady friends back here…”

 

“Abraham,  _ please! _ ” He knew Abe was just trying to leaven the mood; it was his nature to  use his wit and humour to distract Henry from his demons, but now, he desperately needed to focus.

 

“Well, what about the pugio?” Abe offered. “You get it for us,” he gestured at Jo, “we sneak it into the hospital, bam, no more Adam. I mean,  _ he _ thinks it’ll kill him, right?” Henry felt suddenly nauseated, as though his innards were twisting and coiling in upon themselves. He hadn’t wanted even to think of the accursed dagger.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” Jo said firmly, answering before he could even begin to form a response. “I am not stealing evidence so that Henry can sneak into a hospital and murder someone!”

 

“Of course not.” he affirmed. “In any case, it seems unlikely to work, given my experience with the flintlock.” He shuddered involuntarily at the memory of one of his least favourite deaths.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Henry. See, I’ve been thinking: it wasn’t  _ technically _ the gun that killed you,” Abe pointed in his direction for emphasis, “it was the bullet. So Adam’s theory is still on the table.”

 

“I … hadn’t thought of that.” Henry lied. Of course he had been running through innumerable possibilities and theories ever since his last - but evidently not final - confrontation with Adam. And if by the reckoning of whatever sadistic force had cursed him with immortality, it was the lead shot and not the pistol itself that had ended his first life, then the theory of the fatal weapon was as sound as it ever had been. 

 

“Henry, no.” Jo was emphatic. “It is  _ not _ on the table. There’d be a body, right? You’d be arrested.” She paused, appearing distressed. “ _ I’d  _ have to arrest you.”

 

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, no… I can assure you I’ve no desire to assassinate anyone, not even Adam.” He hoped that he sounded reassuring, but she still looked concerned. “Even if it were feasible, even if I was utterly certain that it would work, I couldn’t. That’s what he wants!” He could hear the emotion creeping up in his voice, and so took a breath to attempt to regain his composure. “He has been alive for so very long that humanity has lost all meaning to him.” In his mind’s eye, he could see Adam’s cold, black, shark eyes glittering in the dark of the subway service tunnel. In spite of his efforts, his voice came out choked with desperation. “He wants to make me like him. So he won’t be alone.”

 

In a heartbeat, Jo closed the distance between them, and took both his hands in hers. He was surprised, for some reason, by how warm they were. “Listen to me, Henry. You will  _ never _ be like him.”

 

*

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” She studied his face from the driver’s seat, her eyes questioning. Even in the dim light and deep shadows cast by the hospital’s parking lot lights, her features were quite striking.

 

“Yes, quite.” He smiled grimly. “If anything should go awry, I want you well away from whatever chaos should ensue. Adam is my mess to clean up.” 

 

“Alright,” she sighed, resigned. “I’ll be right here if you need me.” The look she gave him as he stepped out of the car let him know that she didn’t mean just tonight… but he couldn’t stop to think about that now. He had unfinished business to attend to.

 

The three of them had discussed well into the evening how to resolve their dilemma. There simply did not seem to be any feasible solution that would allow Henry an escape from Adam’s machinations. Upon exploration, all the possibilities looked likely to end in his death or worse; in fact they could not settle upon anything that would even extend his current reprieve, other than what he had already attempted. He could roll the dice and hope that perhaps, this time, he could produce a more persistent locked-in state; or he could do nothing, let his adversary escape, and wait for him to make his next move. Henry did not relish either option, and yet here he was, stepping into the hospital elevator, with the syringe fairly burning a hole into his breast pocket.

 

The ward that housed Adam was quiet and dim. Few of its patients were able to abuse their call buttons, and so the night nurse would remain at their station when not making their rounds. Henry had taken care to learn the various rhythms and schedules; and so although visiting hours were long over, he was able to slip into the room unmolested. Adam lay on the semi-reclined bed, unmoving, apparently asleep. The image struck Henry as odd somehow - he supposed he had never thought of him as a being that needed sleep. Carefully, he closed the door, and moved silently to lean over to the supine form.

 

“Adam,” he hissed a whisper next to his ear. His first entreaty provoked no response. “Adam,” he repeated more insistently, Adam’s eyes flew open, unfocused at first, but then gradually focusing on Henry’s face. His expression was unreadable; whether that was owing to lack of muscle control, or his stoic nature, was impossible to discern. “We need to talk - forgive me;  _ I _ need to talk; you need to listen.”

 

Adam blinked once, slowly, in response.

 

“I know that it is only a matter of time until you’ve recovered enough of your strength to escape. Probably rather less time than you’ve let on to your physicians.” Adam simply stared. Henry was beginning to regret leaving Jo in the car. Was this truly his best course of action? _ Courage…  _  He swallowed down his nerves, and reached into his jacket. “I’ve brought you a gift.” Adam’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he withdrew the hypodermic. “It’s not what you think,” Henry said quickly, holding up his free hand. “I need you to understand…” He took a breath, gathering his thoughts. “When we met in the tunnels, I acted out of desperation. But now, faced with having to repeat that act, even to preserve my own security, I find that my conscience will not allow it.” He looked away briefly, glancing at the needle in his hand. “If I were to keep you a prisoner here, trapped in your own flesh, that would be far worse than any death.” A note of guilty anguish coloured his tone. It was true. He had allowed himself to be made a monster, as guilty as those who had tortured not only Adam, but Abraham’s family; but now, this quirk of medicine would allow him if not redemption, at least a certain atonement.

 

“I don’t know if forgiveness is something you can offer, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry.” He held up the syringe. “This is - well, call it a peace offering. Food-grade peroxide. If you can manage to inject it intravenously, death should follow swiftly, although,” he added somewhat apologetically, “I cannot promise it will be painless.” It had proven frustratingly difficult to source fast-acting poisons at short notice in this modern world. Gently, he placed the loaded instrument next to Adam’s right hand.

 

“All I ask is that, if you can find the humanity left within yourself, please… just allow me to hold on to this moment, this place. If you truly have been on this planet for two millenia, then one human lifetime is barely the blink of an eye.” Two lives in particular were at the fore of his jumbled thoughts. Impulsively, Henry took Adam by the shoulders, gazing imploringly at his slack features.  “Please. Just let me have this.” 

 

Adam said nothing, but as Henry backed slowly away, his fingers curled stiffly around the syringe.  _ I knew it. _ He nodded in his direction, as much of a farewell as he felt capable of managing, and ducked out of the room.

 

*

 

“Well? How did it go?” Jo looked inquiringly at him as he pulled the car door shut. She didn’t need to be a detective to read the riot of emotions playing across his features. 

 

“I’m not entirely certain,” he confessed. “But it’s done. We had best make our exit before I have a chance to regret it.” He adjusted his scarf, fidgeting nervously.

 

“You did the right thing,” she reassured him. She reached out and took one of his hands, her touch warm and comforting. “You’re a good person, Henry.”

 

“Well, that remains to be seen. I’ve left us all open to Adam’s reprisals, if he so chooses; left us to live in uncertainty, never to know if some unimaginable fate lies waiting around the next corner --”

 

“You do realize that’s basically the definition of being mortal, right?” Jo quirked a wry grin. Henry was, for a moment, lost for words.

 

“I suppose it is.”

 

“Whatever happens, we’ll handle it when - and if it does.” Her eyes fixed his meaningfully. “Together.”

 

“Jo…” He had been aware of her feelings for some time, of course, and he had to confess to a deepening fondness for her as well. How could he not? Here was this clever, capable, beautiful woman who cared for him, who trusted him in spite of his many evasions and deceptions. Was he, perhaps, ready to allow himself feel for someone else again? She was leaning towards him across the central console. He could feel her pulse quickening where their hands met. “Jo, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I… I care for you very deeply. But getting involved with me - it never ends well.” He gazed at her, eyes pleading for her understanding. “If something were to happen to you, because of me, be it Adam, or something else later on, I simply could not bear it! Believe me, I know it is difficult to --” She sighed loudly, cutting him off.

 

“Shut up Henry,” she said, and then kissed him.

 

* * * * *

 

Henry gradually returned to the present, staring down at the piece of paper in his hands. The initial shock of contact from Adam had worn off, but he was still apprehensive about what it might entail. He picked up the letter opener from the table by the door, and carefully slit open the envelope. 

 

Inside was a card fashioned from handmade paper, with a woodcut print of a Christmas tree, and a small gold embossed star.  _ “Thinking of You This Holiday Season.”  _ Henry’s mouth felt dry as he unfolded it to see more of that same bold script.

 

> “My dear Henry,   
>    
>  I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner, but you know how time flies. I never got the chance to thank you for your gift. I’m sure you’re wondering if it made us even. Well, so am I. Lucky us, with so much time to think about it.
> 
>  
> 
> Be seeing you.
> 
>  
> 
> Adam
> 
>  
> 
> PS. Say hello to the wife for me.”

 

He stood silently staring at the card in his hand, not entirely certain of what he had just read. Was this a truce, or a taunt? Simply a reminder of Adam’s existence, of the fact that he could always find them if he wanted to? He was still puzzling over it some moments later, when he felt Jo’s arms wrap around him from behind, her warmth pressing against his back.

 

“What’ve you got there?” For the barest second, he considered trying to conceal it from her - but no, he had promised her long ago that there would be no more secrets. He took a breath, inhaling her warmth as she leaned her head comfortably on his shoulder.

 

“Actually, it’s a note from Adam… I’m afraid he’s spelled your name wrong.” He managed a wry grin as he held up the envelope for her to look at.

 

“Hah. Well I guess you can’t expect a two thousand year old sociopath to be a social progressive,” she remarked drily. She moved around to look at him, her arms still loosely around his waist. “What does it say?”

 

“Oh, you know, just a general, possibly vaguely threatening seasonal greeting.” he replied, aiming for a cavalier tone.

 

“Uh-huh.” She knew better. “Are you okay?”

 

Henry considered his answer. Truthfully, he had expected to feel more disturbed than this when Adam inevitably emerged from hiding. Now that it had happened he felt, in a peculiar way, relieved. Upon consideration, he understood that this was because in fact, absolutely nothing had changed. Either Adam would come to call, or he would not. The realization was positively emancipatory. He felt immediately lighter, and, bizarrely, almost giddy. His smile for Jo was somewhat baffled, but entirely genuine. “Actually, yes. I do believe I am.” He set the letter down on the side table and pulled her closer to him. “Whatever Adam may or may not have in store, I will not let him change the way we live our life together.” 

 

“Good.” She smiled, relieved, and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Because if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be late for the Christmas party. You know how Lucas gets if he thinks you’re standing him up.”

 

“Ah yes. If I recall he desperately wanted me to play some game called - what was it?” He adopted a thoughtful expression.

 

“Telephone Pictionary.” She smirked.

 

“Well,” he stepped back and playfully offered her his arm. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Merry Yuletide, Forever Friend. Writing this made me miss the show all over again, but that's ok. I loved every second of it.
> 
> In my head, Jo and Henry get hitched sometime after the flashbacky part of this story, and Henry moves into her place in Washington Heights. And Abe is still alive. He comes over for dinner every Sunday. :3


End file.
